Lillies
by Sol en la Noche
Summary: After the war, two unlikely men come together in order to find solace. HarryHermione, SeverusHermione.
1. After you wake up

Disclaimer: I love you J. K. Rowling! Don't sue me or steal my underwear! I haven't stolen your characters, merely borrowed them for an undeterminable amount of time.

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Harry was lying in an infirmary bed when he had woken up and he couldn't precisely figure out how he had gotten there. The sterile, but strangely homey, whiteness of the infirmary confirmed that he was in Madame Pomfrey's domain. Harry tired to lift himself from the bed, but his limbs didn't seem to possess the strength to sit up, much less get out of the damn bed.

"I see you're awake."

Harry jumped in surprise, the deep hollow voice shot unnervingly through the empty infirmary. His eyes narrowed when they fell upon the figure that the voice belonged to.

"Snape," Harry hissed.

"Yes. Astute as always, it seems that three weeks in a coma hasn't deadened your wit, Potter."

"What are you doing here?"

Snape walked through the room; his usual menacing glide was gone. His strait aristocratic posture had an impossibly heavy weight dragging it down. He looked… he just didn't look like Snape.

"I was bringing you a potion Potter."

"Why am I here, what happened?"

Snape looked up, the surprise evident on his face. "Don't you remember?"

The buzz in Harry's head was now turning into a ringing. "No, I don't remember," he snarled. "The last thing I can remember was having dinner with Hermione at the Three Broomsticks. Was there an accident? Oh God, is Hermione ok?"

Snape blanched, but immediately his face fell back into its usual stoic composition, "I will get Madame Pomfrey. Sit still."

Several moments later Snape stepped back in followed by a very anxious mediwitch.

"Oh! Harry you're awake! Severus, be a dear and fetch Minerva please? Thank you! Harry now please, lay down still, I need to examine you."

Harry struggled against Madame Pomfrey's grip. "Where's Hermione? Is she ok? What's going on?"

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Harry, calm down. What's the last thing you remember?"

" I already told Snape. Hermione and I were having dinner at the Three Broomsticks celebrating the end of her apprenticeship with Snape when I was just suddenly here!"

"Then you don't remember The Last Battle?" The witch ventured slowly.

"The last battle? What are you talking about?" Harry became even more impatient and struggled to remove himself from the vice-like grip of the mediwitch and her equally infernal bed sheets. During his struggle the new headmistress and Snape ventured back in the room.

"Harry! You're awake! Is there anything wrong? Poppy?" The Headmistress rushed forward to greet Harry.

"He can't remember the last three months, Minerva. He doesn't remember The Final Battle."

"Oh Harry," Professor McGonagall spoke "You defeated Lord Voldemort. The Final Battle, it happened three weeks ago. Dear, you were injured badly and have been asleep ever since. I'm so glad you're with us again."

"I defeated Voldemort?"

"Yes!"

Harry felt a wave of warmth wash over him. Every sickening and terrifying moment that had tortured him because of that bastard was over. It was over. The gruesome battle to which he dreamt nightmare of for the last several years of his life was over and he didn't even remember any of it. He reached up to touch his scar, his hands shaking on his forehead.

Nothing. Just smooth skin.

"It's gone, dear. It disappeared after you destroyed the rest of Voldemort's soul. It's over. All of it. The rest of the Deatheaters have been rounded up and prosecuted. Fudge has been, well. He's gone to say the least and Arthur will be named the next Minister of Magic in a few short weeks. You've have saved us." Minerva patted Harry on the shoulder; her matronly eyes were brimming with warmth and happiness.

Harry looked up, "Can I see Hermione now?"

The warmth that emanated from everyone in the room was extinguished as soon as the words came from his mouth.

No one spoke. Harry looked frantically from Poppy to Minerva, even to Snape, search for some clue.

"What's wrong? Is she ok?" His voice shook. From the looks on his former professor's downcast faces, she might have suffered the same fate he had. She could be ill. Oh gods, she could be severely injured.

His eyes searched the three in the room begging, "Please?"

Severus opened his mouth, but shut it quickly. His eyes were clouded with some form of anguish that Harry couldn't decipher or even understand. Slowly, Severus opened his mouth again and spoke so softly that Harry had to strain to understand his words.

"She's _dead_."

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Harry lay slumped lifelessly on the infirmary bed. He hadn't moved or spoken since he had learned about Hermione.

He thought over and over again of how he could have saved her, but in reality he couldn't even remember the damn battle that had stolen her life.

Minerva and Poppy had been avoiding him; his despondent mood drove them away he guessed. The only person he had seen in several days was Snape who occasionally brought him potions.

Harry was staring at the wall when Snape walked in and handed him another brewed concoction. As he was leaving Harry spoke quickly.

"Was there a funeral?"

Snape spun in surprise and looked appraisingly at Harry. "Yes. Minerva wanted to wait until you had woken up to have it, but Miss Granger's parents couldn't wait. I supposed they wanted to move on and not prolong their grief."

"I understand, but I wish I could have said good-bye. You know, see her one last time."

Snape nodded his head and turned to walk out again. Harry made no move to stop and returned to staring at the sterile white wall.

On his way out, Severus paused at the door. He laid his hand on the frame and leaned on the opening for support.

"She had lilies in her hair."

Harry turned around. "Excuse me?" But the door had already clicked shut and Snape was gone.

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Severus Snape was sitting alone in his rooms, fingering a weathered clump of an old forgotten childhood toy. He didn't precisely know why this relic held so much meaning for him or even why he kept it, the stuffed piece of nonsense was not an item from his own childhood. Perhaps it was also why he had kept that worn copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ and the wand, which everyone thought had simply been lost on the battlefield. All these things reminded him of her.

Months ago, Snape had seen Hermione rearrange the position of the old rabbit on her bed. She said it was Peter something or other. Severus sneered at Hermione for her sentimentality and sneered his foolishness for thinking that he, Snape the hateful bastard of the dungeons, would want such a girl.

Later as he sat there fingering the tufts of sticky fur, he wondered if she had known.

He had carefully hidden them for the past year. She was his apprentice, not his lover.

Harry was her lover.

The fucking bastard.

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Harry sat in the Astronomy Tower, looking out at the bright summer day to which he was not a part of. Hermione's death created such a gaping whole in his life. He had gone to visit Ron and Ginny, but without Hermione there was like a gap in reality, a silent vortex which sucked away the sound and sight, the touch or feel of everyday life. Nothing seemed whole or real anymore, so Harry sat and stared at the world from the tower.

The time slipped from him, but after the sun had reached its apex, Harry felt a weight settled on the other side of the bench from him. It was Snape, watching the lake, as if sitting beside his enemy and existential bane was a common act.

"Why are you here?"

Snape coolly gazed at him and answered as if he was surprised that Harry did not already know the answer. "Because, she loved you."

Snape tilted his head at Harry, waiting for comprehension to dawn on his face, though it didn't.

"I thought, that if being here, near you. It would be like being near her." Snape was thoughtful for a few minutes. "But I was wrong. I thought that if I tried hard enough to save you, she would come back. It was an old man's fantasy. I am a fool to have… It's the one thing we have in common, Potter. It's binding, this shared feeling."

"How did she die?"

Snape pursed his lips and didn't answer.

Harry turned his gaze back to the lake, and so did Snape. Snape didn't answer, but neither left the bench.

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Gracias! Thank you for reading! Please leave a review (or a twenty) in the little box!

-Sol en la Noche


	2. The Apprentice

Disclaimer: I love you J. K. Rowling and all characters belong solely to you! I haven't stolen your characters, merely borrowed them for an undeterminable amount of time.

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Severus Snape watched the door to his potions lab anxiously; his new apprentice was expected to arrive any moment. Not surprisingly, he had not taken anyone on to study directly and intimately under him in many years and even then none of his former students had been nearly as lovely as Hermione.

When she had gone away to university, Snape thought he had seen the last of the little know-it-all. But she returned ever so often to take tea with Minerva, to obtain access to the Hogwarts library, or even to assist Hagrid with his more wild and unusual beasts (which also included his infamous rock cake). Sometimes though, she would seek him out in his private laboratories to borrow a rare potions ingredient or to inquire after some project he had been working on.

At first, she had been a nuisance and he would pierce her with his hawk-like eyes while he shot scathing comments toward her person. But then eventually he came to enjoy the intellectual companionship they shared and slowly he learned to respect her and even take pleasure in her very presence.

And before he could take note of its occurrence, he came to like Hermione. He thought then, he even might come to love her.

He tried to shake this notion from his mind, suggesting that it was only her soft, womanly form enticing him to lust. But her vivacious energy and immense intelligence led him to conclude that this was more than a mere lustful attachment.

After two years in university, he offered her the potions apprenticeship he had refused when she first graduated. He had hoped to court her in the privacy of his dungeon and private lab.

In fact, he had a plan.

Tirelessly, the week before she arrived he perfected and cleaned his own rooms, his lab, and the apprentice rooms in the dungeon which he had conveniently connected, personally, to his own.

Severus had for the first time something to look forward to in his life, even while the Dark Lord still reigned and gathered strength in secret.

The evening she was supposed to arrive, he remained stoic at the head table next to Dumbledore, but was filled with anxiety and anticipation.

That was until Hermione showed up on the hand of Harry Potter, the unexpected new addition to the staff. Actually they were holding hands when the fool Dumbledore announced that Hermione would be the new Potions Apprentice and Assistant Potions Professor and Harry would be replacing Madame Hooch due to her "gentle-condition"(really, the old fool could be quite medieval sometimes).

Severus Snape wanted nothing more than to histrionically throw his wine glass at the wall. However he managed to make it back to the dungeons maintaining his stoic appearance, convincing himself to treat Hermione with the same indifference which he bestowed upon each of his colleagues. He poured himself several glasses of whiskey and went to bed, dreaming of dark curly hair and large inquisitive eyes.

However, in the morning he concluded that no plan was perfect and due to failure. As he leaned over Hermione to examine her batch of Pepper-Up potion he caught the faint smell of her hair—vanilla and sugar, some muggle hygienic concoction. He decided that he needed a new plan, one that would rid of Potter as well as seduce Hermione.

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A few weeks passed after Hermione had taken the position of Snape's potions apprentice. She had been remarkably surprised when he had offered her the apprenticeship, but one does not look a gift horse in the mouth, and so she had accepted the position immediately.

She thought, before the apprenticeship begin, that Snape would treat her as callously as he had when she had been his student, but surprisingly he was gentle with her and treated her with the same respect as he did his colleagues.

Where she expected derision, she greeted friendship and acceptance. She and Severus became so comfortable with one another; he would often invite her down to his study to lend her a book to read over their notes and research next to the warmth of the fireplace. While his friendship was gratifying after so many years of scorn when she attended Hogwarts, she still relished coming home to Harry.

People were so surprised when she came to Hogwarts on the arm of Harry. She had not expected either. If she had to have guessed whom she would have ended up with when she attended Hogwarts she would have put 50 galleons on Ron. But she and Ron, well… let's just say Ron wasn't ready for a commitment. After the disillusionment of her first love, Harry had been there for her. He was kind, companionable, and attentive and soon and inevitably they started a relationship.

Life seemed so perfect, except hectic. With the Final Battle on the horizon, Hermione found she had little time for anything between Order business, her apprenticeship with Snape, and of course her budding relationship with Harry. So she went to Dumbledore.

The conniving codger had a twinkle in his eye when she arrived. She hated that look. It always meant trouble.

But Dumbledore handed her a time-turner and lectured her on the responsibilities that came with such a device, all this mind you with that damn twinkle.

And then life was perfect.

* * *

"I enjoyed that," the Dark Lord spoke to Severus, who previously had been restrained by his fellow Death Eaters, but now was slumped and broken in the ground.

His potions apprentice lay on the ground at an odd angle, the light gone out of her eye.

"What are you afraid of Severus? I have never seen fear or despair in your eyes until lately, and you know my dear little boy, that your fear has been your undoing."

The Potions Master slowly picked himself up from the ground.

"When you gain something worth more than your life or even your very soul, you cannot help but fear to lose it. But you took that from me too. I have nothing now."

The Dark Lord smiled from the memory of ruining Severus' little mudblood. Her death had been sweet and brutal. He had relished in snapping her frail neck, finally, after so many lovely hours.

Like Hermione's eyes, the light fell from Severus' only to be replaced by a cold hollow sheen. He straightened his back, prepared for this final blow he would give his master. He only hoped this final effort would be enough to honor her.

Honor has always been amusing for Voldemort, and Severus' attempt at vengeance amused him enough to allow his traitorous Death Eater a moment to rally his strength, as little as it may be. "My child, you could not hope to defeat me. You're weak. You're worthless. I will end your life now and then… Well, you don't need to worry about that."

It was Severus' turn to smile as he saw the figures of Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Remus Lupin, and Nymphadora Tonks approach the Dark Lord form behind.

"I won't."

The Final Battle was about to begin.

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Gracias! Thank you for reading! Please leave a review (or a twenty) in the little box!

-Sol en la Noche


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